


The Switcher

by Sureia



Category: Daria (Cartoon)
Genre: Body Swap, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:35:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sureia/pseuds/Sureia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daria and Jane get shocked during a certain Hurricane, and wake up not feeling themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Storm

One thing that never ceased to surprise Jane was the number of creative ways in which life could bring you low. It shouldn’t have been surprising, especially after spending any amount of time under the same roof as Summer, Wind, Penny and Trent, but it did. Even by the standards of those who lived in a tent subsisting on sandwiches and stubborn silence for six months, dying in a shack atop a high school in the world’s lamest hurricane was up there in terms of humiliation. The crowning point, and one of the situation’s saving graces, was that she was also trapped with the idiot responsible for their current predicament. The upside of this was that if she died, she had the satisfaction of taking him with her, so there was that at least.

“Uh, Brittany? Would you mind pointing those things in another direction?”

And there, she thought, smirking slightly, was the other saving grace of the situation, and possibly the only saving grace of her entire high school experience to date. Trust Daria to find something to snark about even in a life or death struggle for personal space in an iccky roof shack, she thought, flailing for levity in a tide of maudlin. The sounds of the storm outside were getting worse and worse, shaking the flimsy walls and rain hammered off the outside, while she tried to hide her fear in a surreptitious glace at Brittany removing her ‘assets’ from her best friend’s face. Daria turned her way and Jane flashed her a smile far more confident than she felt.

“My parents are probably starting to worry,” Daria said.

In spite of the tone, she knew Daria was worried. She tried to hide it, but she was a family type through and through. Sometimes that bothered Jane, especially when she thought of how often everyone in her family seemed to leave her. The rest of the time, it gave her hope, because if a family could tolerate Daria Morgendorffer, then there was hope for everyone. The shack gave another worrying shake, and Jane glanced over at Kevin and Brittany, wondering if they should include the two goofs in the misery party, but decided against it. They had their own thing going on, and the popular couldn’t be troubled with the problems of the lower classes. Best not to disturb them; they were disturbed enough as it was, she thought, smirking at her own poor joke. [i]We who fear death will laugh at anything.[/i] The shack rocked again, harder this time, and Jane shrugged, trying not to think about how she might have heard thunder just then. That was just her imagination, that was all.

“I know mine would be,” she said, nonchalantly, “if they were in town.”

“What about Trent? I’ll bet he’s upset.”

That was the part of Daria that she had mixed feelings about, well, one of many parts, she thought, refusing to acknowledge the multiple entendres there. Her amiga had a biting wit, unflinching principles and a way of alienating people that had endeared her to Jane almost immediately, but she could never leave anything alone. She mustered up a smile and a shrug, her default defenses when pressed.

“I’ll bet he’s snoring.”

“Hey, Daria? Jane?”

They both turned, or at least pivoted, to look at Brittany, whose usual puzzled expression was slightly more focused now. Jane was grateful for the distraction. She loved her brother, she did, but she didn’t like thinking about her family too much. They were related to her in ways she didn’t like to think about and they had their issues, but any further down that road and madness lurked around every corner. So grateful was she, in fact, that she almost completely forgot about the worsening sounds of the storm. Until she reminded herself.

“You guys come up here a lot, right?”

“Define a lot,” Daria said, raising an eyebrow, “but more immediately, why do you ask?”

“Well, I mean, I may not come up here as much as you guys,” Brittany said, breezing past the attempt at sarcasm, “but I’ve [i]never[/i] seen this shack before, and I thought it was weird, but I mean if you guys thought it was okay, then it must have been here the whole time, right?”

That was... an excellent point, actually, now that Jane thought about it, and she could see Daria staring in that maddeningly blank way she did when someone blind-sided her. Some peope gaped, some people gasped, Daria merely stared. Viva Amiga. Brittany, however, wasn’t done yet.

“So,” she continued, oblivious to the blank stares directed her way, “since you guys would know all about this place. What’s that for?”

“What’s what for?”

Again, due to space constraints, they pivoted in the indicated direction to take in the machinery that took up the majority of the confined space they found themselves in. Had anyone asked her before being shunted inside by necessity, Jane would have said that the shack contained some sort of vent-related whatsit, but up close, she was a bit stumped. For one thing, it was far too technical looking and, more to the point, new looking, to be anything that could actually improve conditions for students and staff. Ms Li just did not think that way when it came to capital expenditure. That left the possibility of it being some security contraption or other, though what it did was beyond her.There was a screen, however, and it did say things. She peered closer. Rather worrying things.

“Er, what does Cap. A. City Ex Heeded mean?”

Jane looked at Brittany, then at Daria, whose normally pale features were even paler in the dim light the screen gave off. The wind picked up again, shaking them thoroughly, and Daria cleared her throat.

“It means we may want to get out of-“

Whatever it was that they might have wanted to get out of, Jane never quite found out. For one frozen, perfect moment, Daria was steping back, half turning to finish her sentence, and then there was a crash, or something, and damp darkness rushed in, carrying everything else off with it. It was strange, but there was a kind of comfort in knowing that her last moment was being spent with someone she cared about, and she wondered whether Daria felt the same way. Then she realised that if she could wonder about that, she was still alive, and she blinked, trying to focus. Her head felt like it was a few sizes too small, she ached all over, and something was pulling at her shoulders, but she was still there.

“Jane? Jane?!”

Someone was calling for her, and she coughed, prying one bleary eye open, and froze, because her own, unconscious face was in front of her. That was... That was a head-wrecker alright. In fact, she thought she might continue lying there, looking at herself and not moving until it all somehow made sense. She was right THERE. How? Why? She really could have gotten away with another earring. Maybe it was the sheer impossible madness of the situation, but that thought seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It was like she was outside herself, watching herself sleep. She WAS outside herself, watching herself sleep.

“Jane!”

Someone was shaking her. Or... well, not her, but the her in front of her. She was thinking about pronouns far too much for her liking right then, and she blinked as a slender hand reached into her vision and a shadow fell across them. She knew the voice, but there was something off about it.

“Daria?”

Okay, now that was weird, she thought, there was no way in hell she should sound like that. Her voice had always been deep, yes, but this was... This was not her voice! Why was this not her voice! Why was she over there and her and not speaking in her voice?! The shadow stopped, and her train of thought stopped with it, hope flaring in her breast. Daria was alright and things would make sense. Things had to make sense. She opened both eyes and tried to sit up, looking around into the panicked, blue-eyed face of Brittany, which only further muddled the issue and fueled her panic. Brittany grabbed her shoulders to steady her, eyes narrowing in a familiar expression.

“Kevin,” Brittany said, in Daria’s tones, “why did you call my name?”


	2. Two

“Why did you just call me ‘Kevin’?”

Jane liked to think of herself as a reasonable and measured individual under normal circumstances, regardless of whether other people who knew her well would do the same. In fact, barring one stringy-limbed, blonde exception, the Lane family were not given to freaking out as a general rule. Still, it would have been more than fair to say, given the circumstances, that she was freaking out now. There had been a warm, hopeful feeling in her heart, through which the cold winds of possibility now blew, and she stared rather blankly at Brittany, who was staring right back, with what Jane assumed was an expression of horror that matched her own.

“What?”

“Why did you just call me ‘Kevin’? Why do you sound like Daria?!”

“What do you-?”

“Damn it, Brittany! Why am I over there?! What happened!”

Now that she’d started, she was finding it impossible to stop. It was like she had this scream, lurking just at the top of her throat, and it wanted to be free. Her heart was hammering in her chest, which felt oddly constricted, her voice sounded wrong, and now Brittany was gaping at her... None of it was right! None of it. She raised her hands to demonstrate her point, and felt her panic building all over again. Those were not her hands! She wasn’t wearing gloves! Brittany was saying something, but Jane couldn’t hear her, not over the scream, and she tore the gloves off, looking down at the elbow pads and the arms and god-damned yellow jersey she had on. This wasn’t... None of it was... Christ, she could barely breathe! She had to get it off, she had to-

The blow was a clean one, and the force of it almost carried her a foot from where she had been sitting. It cut through her line of thought like a shot, and as the sting began to set in, her breathing slowed to a more manageable pace, like a long run. She wanted to go all Forrest Gump now, and how, but the way Brittany was standing over her, her expression equal parts fury and horror, chest heaving impressively, spoke against it. She put a hand to her injured cheek, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish, and Brittany raised a threatening finger.

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

There was a long moment where they both just stared at each other; a pregnant pause that gave birth to a lot of other pauses each more deeply confusing than its parent, and then Brittany broke the silence, all of a sudden looking every bit as lost and fragile as Jane felt.

“Jane,” she said, her eyes pleading, “is that you?”

“I... think so? Daria?”

Brittany, or Daria, bit her lip in a way that was as cute as it was disconcerting, and nodded, looking down at her sneakers. Brittany’s sneakers? Jane wasn’t sure what to think of it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to think about it at all, actually, and she joined her friend in staring at the ground for a moment, then gave up, because that was even more disconcerting, and raised a lot of odd questions. Daria coughed politely, which was a thunderclap in the quiet. At some point, Jane realised, the rain had stopped without her noticing. She looked up, following her friend’s gaze across to the two silent forms still lying on the roof.

“We... we should probably do something.”

“Yeah,” Jane agreed, trying to get her muscles to work, “we should.”

Rising slightly, and trying not to think about which parts of her anatomy were catching where, she looked over at... at herself. Was that right? Pronouns were failing her far too much today, she thought, trying to surreptitiously adjust herself whilst neither looking nor acknowledging what she was touching. Right then was not the time for that sort of thing, not while she was lying there and looking... Crap! Why was she still sitting there?! Shaking herself, she rose the rest of the way and moved to hover awkwardly over her own prone form. This was ludicrous; what was she worried about? It was her, for heaven’s sake, and it was nothing she hadn’t seen before, was it? But it was still weird. Was she even breathing? That seemed like a thing she should check, so she did, gingerly and trying not to make it any weirder. Okay, so she was breathing... Now what?

“Britt, er, Daria? You still breathing too?”

“Yeah.”

“This is weird.”

“Oh good, so it’s not just me?”

Even in Brittany’s squeak, Jane could practically hear Daria’s eyes rolling, and she turned to glare at her friend even as she relished the familiarity of the gesture. Even that tell-tale smirk, so out of place on Brittany’s expressive face, seemed familiar, and, though she’d never admit it, comforting. She flipped her the bird, trying not to think too hard about how the voices were wrong and shook her head.

“Screw you.”

“I think we can safely say you already have.”

Now that was too much, and Jane did a double take, mouth half open before thought intervened and she simply laughed. She couldn’t help it; the line was awful, and (technically) true, and she was just too tense not to, and it carried on far longer than it needed to, bringing a tear to her eye. It felt good though, she thought, not realizing how much she’d needed a release. Once the shaking had subsided, and she’d wiped the tears away, she took a steadying breath and shot a wry smile at Daria.

“So, we’re doing this now?”

“I guess,” Daria said, “it’s that or start crying. Can you see any injuries?”

“I, er, no? I don’t think so.”

“Well, there’s that then. Come on, recovery position.”

Daria moved back to herself, looking back when Jane did not move, and simply stared. It was a useful tactic in situations where her brain had failed her, and she could rely on it to provoke one of two responses. Hopefully it would inspire the helpful one this time, because she was drawing an utter blank about this.

“First aid? We took a course six months ago? You spent the entire thing ogling the paramedic?”

“I believe my blank look speaks for itself.”

“Just give me a hand,” Daria said, tersely, “I think we’re alright-“

“-barring the obvious?”

“-but we need to be careful,” Daria said, ignoring the sarcasm, “and then we can panic.”

She didn’t entirely appreciate Daria’s tone, even if it was jarringly disconcerting to hear Brittany attempting Daria’s monotone, but she let it slide. They were both under a lot of stress, and fighting wasn’t going to help either of them. She was barely holding it together, after all, and she didn’t want to think about how little miss repression was dealing with it. Between them, they managed to turn themselves over, which was a lesson in awkwardness all of its own. It shouldn’t have been, really, but between her trying not to overbalance on every other step, which was cute, and Jane herself almost tripping in Kevin’s dumbass cleats and getting in the way, which wasn’t, they managed it. Standing again, she was about to remark on it, when she noticed Daria rooting around in her (unconscious her) bag.

“What are you?”

“Cell phone,” Daria said, distractedly, “call help. Watch them.”

“Why didn’t we do that earlier?”

No answer seemed to be forthcoming, and she didn’t want to annoy Daria if she didn’t have to, so she returned her attention to the two prone girls, hoping it would help her figure things out. Maybe if she thought of them as separate, then it would be easier? It wasn’t, but she kept it up anyway, and her foggy brain finally registered that both of them lying prone in damp clothes on a wet roof was probably not the healthiest position to be in. Alright, their options were limited, since they were stuck up there thanks to Kevin, but even then, was it wise to move them? She had no idea, and standing over herself… hell, over both of them, was eerie.

It was like she was sleeping, she thought, flexing her new, shovel-sized hands briefly to keep some feeling going. Was that what she looked like? Was she ever that peaceful? As she looked, she felt the panic starting to rise again, but she forced it down. She and Trent had once survived on a buck seventy-six of groceries every week one summer, so she could get through this. Speaking of Trent; how was she going to explain this to him? Should she explain this to him? Would anyone believe them?

“Mom?”

Daria’s voice cut once more cut through her line of thought, and she turned away from those worrying and fascinating questions to pay proper attention to her friend once more. Whatever was being said, it did not seem to be good, if Daria’s expression was anything to go by. She seemed to realise what she’d just said after a moment, and shook her head, glancing back at Jane. That wasn’t a good sign. Whether Daria admitted it or not, her mother was her go to person for help and advice, and, if anything happened there… She didn’t want to think about it.

“Sorry, Mrs Morgendorffer? This is Brittany Taylor,” she said, shakily, “Daria’s friend? Yes, I… Well, I… She is here. No, she can’t… She’s not moving. I… I don’t… Look, we’re stuck on the roof of Lawndale High, and we don’t know what to do.”

There was a panicked sound from the other end of the phone, audible even at her distance, and she tensed, watching Daria pace back and forth. Her ears perked up at the sound of her name, even though she knew that could not possibly be a good thing either. 

“Jane? She’s not moving either. What? Her brother? Well, where…? Because the door is locked, and we’re stuck. Can you? Okay. Okay. Thank you.”

Hanging up the phone, she stared through it for what seemed like far too long, and Jane felt the urge to step in.

“So… what now?”

“She’s going to call nine-one-one,” Daria said, “and get here as fast as she can.”

“Why couldn’t we…?”

“I don’t know that they’d believe us,” she said, “I mean; I wouldn’t. They’ll listen to her though.”

Jane hoped so. Helen Morgendorffer could be a force to be reckoned with once she got going, and the only thing she tackled with more relish than the law was her family, for good or for ill. She would try harder than anyone, but she could be a little too… focused… at times. Would she be willing to help them at all? Would she understand? What if she didn’t? Then what would happen to them? She could see that Daria was thinking over the same thing, and she crossed to stand by her friend, looking towards the wreckage of the little hut.

“You said something about Trent?”

Daria seemed to shake herself, looking sombre, and nodded.

“He was waiting out the storm at my house,” she said, “but he drove off with Dad to try and find us.”

“So, they’ve likely run into a tree somewhere, then?”

“Probably,” Daria said, passing a hand over her eyes. "We'll just have to wait and see."


End file.
